February 2, 2023
5:38 p.m.
I clasped the red nail with two fingers, holding onto it like a gem.
Tyler’s hands were still on me.
“Let me go,” I said, shaking him off. His hand rested on the lip of the freezer.
I took a deep breath, felt the tears building behind my eyes now. “She was here,” I said. “We know she was here.”
Billy cleared his throat, his eyebrows stitching together. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a fake nail,” I said.
“Can I see it?” he asked.
I hesitated a moment, but then the badge gleamed in the overhead light, and I placed it into the officer’s gloved hands, careful not to drop it.
He pulled it up to his eyes, examining.
“It’s one of hers,” I said. “Allison’s. I saw the setup in the bathroom.”
He offered the nail back to me, and I clasped it in my palm.
“I’m not sure what that proves, Miss Walsh.”
“That she was here,” I said. I squeezed the nail in my palm, holding it like my life depended on it.
The officer sighed. “This is the second time we’ve been called out, ma’am. The second time with absolutely nothing to show for it. All we have here is proof that someone who used this freezer wore fake nails.”
“Or that there really was a body in here,” I said. “And that this is the one piece of evidence that’s been left behind.”
I held out the nail, and Tyler’s grip on the lip of the freezer tightened.
“I think we should move this along,” Billy said. “I’ve got real police work to do.”
I wasn’t looking at him, my gaze trained on Tyler. His hand, I realized, was holding the freezer so tight to stop it from shaking.
I lifted the nail toward him, shoving it in his direction, and it was unmistakable: He flinched.
I stared into his eyes, just beginning to glaze with moisture. At the cut of his shoulders, the width of them, beneath Gore-Tex and down. Arms that had carried in a near-mountain of wood the first time I’d seen him. Arms that were strong, built by the outdoors, by hard work, made for maintenance, for keeping things running. Arms that would have had no problem lifting a body. And lifting it again.
Tyler was here that night; he’d never pretended he wasn’t. But a lot of people were here, weren’t they? And he didn’t think there was a reason that the cops would turn on him. And why would he be a person of interest? He was family, wasn’t he?
Tyler had the capability. He also had a utility vehicle; he’d driven me over in it.
I racked my brain, my fingers beginning to shake, my heart beating faster.
Was it possible? Could Tyler have killed Allison that night, then left her there all the next day, hoping the snow would cover her, that no one would see? Had he been surprised to see me arrive, to see me find her the next morning, known then that he had to do something, moved her while I walked to his house to get help?
And Tyler had been here, tonight, found me just after I had argued with Siobhan.
I knew I should be scared, I should be terrified, but knowing the answer finally—it was such a relief. Knowing finally, fully, that I wasn’t imagining things; that was a relief, too.
“Tyler,” I said, clasping the nail in my palm so I wouldn’t drop it. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Hey,” Billy said. “Listen. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I understand that you’re freaked out, but—ma’am—we still don’t have a body. We’re going only on your conjectures here. And a single fake nail that could belong to anyone.”
There wasn’t anger or rage on Tyler’s face, but humiliation, deepest disgrace. He looked suddenly like a scared, ashamed puppy who had been caught destroying the living room.
I glanced to his uncle, whose badge once again caught the light. Should I be scared? Should I fear what was about to come? Yes, he was family, and a family connection could help with a lot of things, but it couldn’t undo a murder. That was a step too far.
“Why?” I asked, my eyes trained straight on Tyler. “Why Allison?”
He shook his head, and I saw a tear escape from one of his eyes, but he brushed it away as if it had never been there at all. He wasn’t a killer; he had somehow gotten in over his head, and something had happened, and then he had tried his best to cover it up, pretend as if it hadn’t.
Whatever had happened, he hadn’t intended it. That much was clear. He opened his mouth, as if to speak—
“Don’t indulge her,” Billy said. “She’s nuts.”
“Am I?” I asked, my gaze still on Tyler. “Really?”
His breath was ragged, and damn it if that wasn’t answer enough.
Because you couldn’t cover up something like that forever. Eventually the snow was going to melt. The power was going to come back on.
The remnants of a life were going to turn up.
And I was holding one of those remnants tight in my hand.
“Tyler,” I said again, my voice soft now. Kind. “Tell him. Please. Tell him I wasn’t imagining things. Tell your uncle what happened.”
I took a deep breath. “Tell us what happened that night.”